Alone
by Static-Alchemist-Keiru
Summary: Matthew Williams has reached rock bottom. Sick of being invisible and taking the blame for his brother's mistakes, he decides it's time to end it. One shot. Rated M for sensitive material.


**_A/N: _**I've fallen into one of my 'moods' again, so instead of taking it out on my other story, I decided to write a quick one-shot. Enjoy.

**Title: **Alone

**Character(s): **Mainly Matthew Williams/Canada

**Rating: **M for sensitive material

**I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters in this story. **

* * *

><p>His nails dug crescent-moon-shaped cuts into the flesh of his own arm. His eyes were pricked with tears as he stared at the reflection in the full-body mirror in his room. The person looking back at him was Matthew. It was not his brother, Alfred, like some people believed.<p>

"I do not look like him," Matthew muttered to himself. "I'm sick of taking the punishments for his mistakes." He removed his hand from his arm and placed it on the mirror. Tears blurred his vision and he choked back a sob. There was no way he was going to let his parents hear him. He doubted that they would care that he was crying, but he still didn't want anyone to know. He removed his hand from the mirror and wiped his eyes and once he could see again, he put his arms out in front of him to admire the puckered pink scars that decorated them. He wanted to go find his razor blade, hidden among the socks and undergarments in one of his drawers, but his body just didn't want to move. He was too tired, too deep down in his own misery, to even find the one thing that pulled him back to reality. He collapsed on his bed and pulled a pillow into his face.

"No one notices me," he said into the pillow. "I'm invisible, a waste of space, a burden to the entire human race." More tears formed and soaked into the pillow as an empty, lonely feeling grew in his gut. He hugged the pillow around his face, dark thought swirling in his head. Maybe he could suffocate himself. He imagined the feeling of there being no air, fighting for each breath. It wasn't the most glorious way to die, but it would do the job. Matt pressed the pillow harder against his nose and mouth.

_I'm like plankton in the ocean. I'm so small that no one notices me…except those fish that want to eat me. I'm useless. My own pet doesn't even remember my name,_ Matt thought. _Although, I have no room to talk since I don't remember my pet's name, either…_ Air was becoming scarce. He could feel himself becoming light-headed. His thoughts dwindled and he let his mind go blank. Just as he felt faint, he shot straight up, gasping for air. Something, somewhere in his body, had caused him to think that, maybe, he shouldn't die. Maybe there was someone out there that noticed and cared about him…maybe, somewhere…

"Alfred, it's time for lunch!" It was his mother's voice, calling down the only son that she cared to remember. She didn't remember that she had another, more timid son. It was because he wasn't worth remembering, wasn't worth the time to spare a thought for. His previous hopeful thoughts vanished in an instant and he slumped forward as he listened to his brother's hurried feet race down the stairs to the kitchen, not bothering to retrieve Matthew. He crawled back over to his mirror and stared. Blonde hair with a lone, looped curl, glasses, a red t-shirt and blue jeans. He looked the same as always, just how Matthew Williams was supposed to look. The boy touched the mirror again, his sad eyes scanning over the reflection. _Why do people think I look like Alfred?_ _I don't look like him…I look like…myself._ Matt sighed and clenched his hands.

"WHY?" Matt cried, punching the wall. His hand made a dent, but he ended up hurting himself more than the wall. He did not flinch at the pain, though. He actually welcomed it like an old friend, relishing in it until it faded. Now he really wanted his blades. He wanted the sharp pain and the crimson red blood on his arm. He wanted to be pulled back into the world, to feel just a little bit better. He willed his body to move to his dresser. He somehow managed to take two steps before his body refused to move. He sighed, burying his face in his hands. He cried for a minute, his mind, body, and soul aching. He pulled his hands away from his face to stare at them blankly.

"I'm truly alone," Matthew said quietly. "I'm alone. People only acknowledge my existence because they think I'm Al. They only see me so they can hurt me for something my brother did. It's time…it's time for Alfred to see that I'm not going to take the punishments for him anymore. I no longer wish to be his punching bag…I'm done. I'm done be alone and invisible." The little Canadian boy forced his body to take the few short steps to his bedside table. He yanked open the drawer and pulled out the pistol he had nabbed from his father's gun case. He sat down on his bed, gun in hand, and thought for a few moments, his mind filled with morbid things.

_How should I do this? Should I put the gun to my temple, or stick it in my mouth? Or should I go downstairs and get Dad's shotgun and blow a round through my chest? Should I write a note? No, no one would find it anyway…they're only going to find my body once it starts to stink…_ Matt twirled the gun around in his hands, occasionally placing it to his temple or putting the barrel in his mouth. He never put his finger on the trigger, though, as he continued to sort through his thoughts on how he should die.

After a few more minutes, he placed the gun in his mouth. He blinked a few times as tears washed down his pale cheeks. _I'm sorry to anyone who actually cared about me, _he thought sadly as he placed his finger on the trigger. He squeezed his eyes shut as images of his blood splattering on the wall behind him and soaking into his favorite bed spread filled his mind. _Time to pull the trigger, Williams. It's over now._

…

"I can't do it! Why in the world can't I do it?" Matt cried, throwing the gun. It hit the opposite wall with a loud _bang_ as he curled up on his bed, sobbing. "Why can't I pull the dang trigger? I know I want to die! I'm positive I don't want to live, yet I can't end my own life! Why?"

"Maybe because you know that someone wants you to live?" Matthew jumped at the voice and turned to stare at the person standing in his doorway. It was his brother, Alfred. Matt would have snapped at him and gave him a piece of his mind, but he was too shocked and in such a deep pit of depression he couldn't get his mouth to form the right words.

"A-Alfred? H-how long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to see that you were about to shoot yourself," Alfred said calmly, leaning against the doorframe.

"W-why didn't you try and stop me?" Matt asked in confusion. He sat upright on his bed and stared at his brother.

"Because I knew you wouldn't do it, bro," Al said, crossing the room to sit next to his brother. He casually flung an arm around Matt's shoulders and sighed. "I know you're lonely and I know you're sick of taking the blame for every stupid thing I do. I'm really sorry about that. Next time you feel left or anything, just punch me in the shoulder or something, alright? Don't be shy; I'll help you out, I promise, because that's what brothers do. I may not be the best sibling in the world, but you're stuck with me." Alfred grinned at Matthew, who was staring at him in complete shock. He blinked, shook his head, and then his eyes welled up with tears. He began to cry into Alfred's shoulder, hugging his brother to him, happy that someone had noticed him. He may not believe the promise his brother made, but at least he had apologized for being such a rotten brother.

"We'll get you some help. Get you into see a therapist, alright bro? Everything is going to be okay," Alfred assured, petting his brother's head.

"T-thanks Alfred," Matt said quietly as he pulled away from his sibling's shoulder, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes.

"Sure! And this is just more proof that…" Alfred shot straight up and posed, "I'M THE HERO!" Alfred smiled broadly at his brother, who promptly smacked himself in the forehead with the base of his palm. Matt stood and made his way to his door. "Hey, wait, dude! I came up here to tell you something." Matt turned to raise an eyebrow at Alfred. "Kumajiro's food dish is empty. You need to go feed him." Matthew furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the side.

"Who?"


End file.
